The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I open my eyes and sigh. There is Mistress standing over me, tetchily smacking her riding crop onto her own gloved palm. She glares at me with that hard stare that melts me, that reminds me of how gloriously insignificant and unworthy I truly am. Her dark eyes flash. They’re almost as beautifully black as the hair in a pageboy cut that frames her alabaster face with the darker-than-blood-red lips. “Why are you still lying down, filth?”

Butterflies dance in my stomach at the sound of her voice, actually addressed to me, an acknowledgment of my existence. “I’m so sorry, Mistress.”

The sting of her crop against my flank is exquisite, especially because it helps me realize that I’m naked before her. Already bearing a wound that will fill my fantasies for weeks, I now flush from head to toe, knowing I am on full display.

“Up and on your knees, scum.”

Not even a breath passes between us before I begin to squirm from the cold linoleum where I lie on my side. That’s when it becomes clear to me that I’m hog-tied, my wrists bound pretty tightly to my ankles. Thus, I am rather slow getting up, leaving me open to three more swats and some delicious epithets. Finally, I am on my knees, rather wobbly, presenting myself—the ropes don’t really allow any other position.

The ropes and knots are also positioned in such a way that my every move arouses me a little more. I enjoy that . . . I cannot help but enjoy that . . . but a flick of the crop just past my ear reminds me that, should I cum, I would be punished severely . . .

. . . Mistress wouldn’t touch me or speak to me, perhaps never again . . .

. . . So I keep myself from cumming, keep myself from enjoying.

“Lick my boot.”

I am loving the taste of her leather, even of the dirt and grime on it. I love it because Mistress has told me I love it, and I know that whatever Mistress tell me is true.

It wasn’t always that way. I have a vague memory of being scared in front of mistress, maybe even terrified. Back then it was a cold, sterile fear. Now, it is a magnificent terror that squeezes my heart and claws at my bowels, nudging at my sphincter and making me a trembling, lusting puddle for her.

But then, the fear produced anger. I can recall it, even though I barely recognize the cowering, ungratefully defiant figure in my minds eye. I remember how she had to flog me, burn me, trick me that first night. I remember how she graciously withheld food and sleep, substituting electrical shocks. They were so horrid at first—I don’t understand how I could have been so stupid about them—burning through me as the voltage seemingly ripped my marrow from my bones. Finally, over days . . . or was it years? . . . Mistress’ discipline helped me to know, helped me to understand that this was the only hope for me, and finally that this was my only true life. All that was before (funny . . . it has been so long since I thought of there even being a “before”) had been a delusion.

I am licking her boot. I crawl and continue licking as Mistress sits down, her gorgeous, long legs perched before her. As my mouth switches to her other boot, the toe of the first one grinds into my crotch. It is exquisite agony, bringing me so so close to . . .

“You are almost adequate, filth. If you continue to please me, I might use the electrodes on you tonight. Maybe. But you must not cum . . .”

“. . . because it will be so much more delicious if you and I cum together, pet.” This is another voice, a more musical voice that wraps around my mind like warm honey, the way it always has before.

Before?

What would this “before” be? There was always Mistress. “Before” was the delusion. “Before” was . . . but that voice was in the before . . . something warm and soft and irresistible . . . I think maybe I liked it.

“No one wants you here, bitch!” There is fire in Mistress’ voice as she leaps to her feet and graciously kicks me to the middle of the room. Her gleaming eyes now match the black vinyl encasing her breasts, midriff, and arms as she spits in the direction of the voice.

And it is Goddess . . . of course, it is Goddess! The warm, chestnut ringlets circle her glowing face before cascading over her shoulders and down to the small of her back; those crystal blue eyes, promising entire universes as one falls into them; the loving yet mysterious smile, so full of the potential for mischief, outlined in that glossy red the matched her flowing, diaphanous, translucent gown, adding allure to her voluptuous form that seemed to defy gravity. All of that is Goddess, my only true love, my entire world.

There was that day when I was at the . . . at the . . . I don’t remember where it was, but I remember Goddess coming in and asking about a book. She looked me right in the eyes, and, before I knew it, I was swimming in hers. She kept calling me by name—“Pet”—and I could feel the warmth growing inside of me. She stroked my arm and looked me in the eyes and repeated my name . . . “Pet” again and again and again . . . and minutes became hours or weeks or who the hell cares as I helped her with . . . with . . . well with whatever was in that place. Then, as quickly as she had arrived, she was gone, and the entire wherever-it-was seemed a bit duller, more drab.

That evening I left for home, but found myself in her parlor—how I even knew where her parlor was entirely escaped me. It didn’t seem to matter, however. I was quickly under her skirts and licking between her legs, drinking deeply of her. Then she had me lying on the softest carpet while she mounted me. I don’t know how much of her nectar I imbibed or how many times she brought me to orgasm, but, with each passing moment, more of whatever had been faded away and the more sure I was of my reality as Goddess’ pet in Paradise.

Then came the day that we were in a mall. I was following Goddess quietly, carrying her packages, when I was knocked in the back of the head and jabbed in the arm by . . . by . . .

. . . by that twat dressed in the vinyl . . . the one whom Goddess just smacked in the side of the head and left in a heap on the floor.

She walks back over to me, tenderly taking my chin in her hand and melting me with a kiss. “Ooo, you’re all tied up, baby. Kinky! Though I think we might try this with velvet when I get you home. For now, though, I have missed you, Pet, and I want you right here.”

I find myself in a cloud of her musk, tasting her delicious essence, finally home after heaven-knows-how long, licking and sucking her petals and teething ever-so-gently on her clittie. I’m back in heaven, back where I belong.

The then I am ripped away, thrown into the cold world as somebody knocks my Goddess off my face, down to the floor. I feel as if all the meaning in my life has been torn from me. Everything is bleak and cold and confusing for a few seconds.

Then I am able to focus. It’s that wiry little Mistress whom I must serve . . . no, the evil creature who abducted . . . no, she generously disciplines me . . . I mean, she stole me from . . . but . . . I . . . My mind is on fire as two voices inside it battle for control.

But I seem to be of minimal relevance to the matters at hand.

“You ridiculous slut,” Mistress spits in the face of the beauty in red as she pushes her down, “do you honestly believe that you can take away someone who is mine? Are you so thick as to truly believe that all your sweetness and smut is going to hold onto these spineless twerps?” The leather clad, ice-cold femme fatale is pulling her adversary up by the dress and slamming her into a wall, the grabbing her by the chin and staring into her now-dull eyes: “Look at how quickly I can take what is yours, how much more responsive the creature is to simple discipline, to the firm sort of hand that touches what is at the heart of us all. Although I will give you points for this choice; a very talented tongue.”

Goddess looks as if she’s about to pass out, and her adversary has a particularly cruel smile on her face. She licks the cheek of her curly-coiffed conquest, and I can just barely hear her vicious growl: “I think you would really enjoy the beneficial effects of my crop, my dear. Maybe some mouth-watering pain is just what you . . . you . . .”

The words begin to choke in the domme’s mouth. As she panics, struggling for air, Goddess seems to be suddenly revived, and easily catches the slumping body in vinyl.

“Oh, you foolish child: did I really train you so poorly?” Goddess’ voice is like warm honey, slipping into my own mind and wrapping me close even though I wasn’t her target. “How could you forget, my sweet, what I could do if you looked me in the eyes for even a few seconds? Did you really believe that a bit of mindless violence could overcome that ability in me? Now your eyes—that’s right, don’t close them—are looking into mine, and, with your silly yammering done, you have nothing to do but listen to my reason. I don’t know how you twisted my ways so, but you want me to fix that for you, don’t you, baby?”

She who had been Mistress is just whimpering and nodding now, even as her face is screwed up in defiance. She is clearly struggling to regain control—of herself, at least, if not the situation—but she’s more a little girl dressed up in strange adult clothes than the powerful presence before whom I had cowered.

This feels so good, so right. I am settling beck into Goddess’ power, from which I had been stolen.

But She who is Sex Herself, My Goddess, was still busy with the other woman. “Yes, baby, just relax . . . relax and remember how wonnnnnnnderfulllll it all feels to melt into my arms . . . relax and allow the heat to rise with in you . . . remember the desire . . . remember the pleasure . . . remember and taste your Goddess.” She opens her gown and exposes her glorious breast, as the other mindlessly, helplessly, eagerly suckles.

I am so incalculably jealous. But I know my place. And besides, the ropes are still chafing at my wrists, my ankles, and my groin.

Chafing, but no arousal, because I’ve not yet been allowed.

It is still so amazingly erotic, watching my Goddess and this other woman. I know it is erotic. I know that what I am watching Goddess do to her is but the tip of the iceberg of how she will enjoy me. And yet, my body is passive, because that is my place. I know who I am supposed to be. My body knows what it is supposed to do, and I . . .

I am getting aroused.

Someone has kissed my ear, and my body instantly responds. But it cannot be Goddess. She is still over there, with the other. She doesn’t kiss me there, that way. She has other ways . . . so many ways . . . to get me hot at the drop of a hat. But that kiss has produced a visceral reaction in me. I cannot see who, but I felt the kiss . . . and now I smell someone . . . a shampoo I recognize . . . and now I am feeling myself respond. I wonder when the knots will respond to my arousal.

Except that the ropes are going slack.

There is another kiss on the very edge of my earlobe, and a voice: “Hang on, love. I’m here now.”

It’s Karen . . . IT’S KAREN!! . . . my baby, my darling!! Tears are streaming over my cheeks as a flood of my real memory returns. Karen has been my lover since college, and we are . . . or we were, before Goddess came and . . . She took me! That chestnut-haired skank did something to me and . . . oh, Karen, I am so sorry! Karen what have I put you through? How did you find me! I love you so much baby . . .

. . . I want to say all that to her, but my voice is just a croak. I want to turn and grab her, but my limbs are worthless tingles.

I think the skank heard me croak though; she’s turning toward us. “Oh, how delightful! You are the girlfriend, aren’t you. There were pictures of you. Getting rid of your memory was hardly easy, let me tell you.”

You didn’t get rid of the memories, you whore! That’s what I want to scream, but I still can’t.

The other still latched to her ample cleavage, the erstwhile Goddess looks at Karen with sparkling eyes. “Why don’t you come over here?”

“You realize I am taking my lover back, right?” Karen’s voice sounds firm, but she is stepping over me. I see her pixyish red hair, the gentle sway of her perfectly-sized ass on her five-foot-five frame, those curves that fit mine just right. “You thought I couldn’t find you, but I have. You thought your trance was unbreakable, but it isn’t. Why not just give it up?” She is saying all the right things, but she is walking right toward that brunette seductress, just the way she wants, and she will . . .

“Yes, come right over here . . . Karen, isn’t it? Come right over here and we’ll discuss it, and maybe you will let me help you feel soooooo good.”

Karen is so quiet, and she is getting so close. I worry that the amazing light, the light I am only now remembering, the light that fill her and shines from her eyes, is being put out. My fingers and toes are only now starting to wiggle, but Karen is close enough for that woman to put an arm around her and pull her in and . . .

. . . Karen suddenly pulls out some sort of coin and puts it against the other woman’s forehead. She sighs and crumples, and the woman on her breast becomes a heap on the floor. My true love steps back, triumphant.

I am just starting to be able to stand.

“It took me a long time to locate the coven that knew how to break your mind control,” my amazing baby is standing over the woman in red now, “and it took quite a bit to convince them to share that information . . . things I never thought I would offer . . . but you had my precious treasure, my soul-mate, and I wasn’t about to let that pass. Possession simply isn’t the same as belonging.”

She waves her hand over the two women. “Since I have my heart’s desire”—she is flashing her smile at me, and my whole world feels alive again—“I don’t see why you two cannot have one another.”

The way they have already begun pawing each other, I doubt that they hear her saying “Of course, you’ll never be able to climax again.”

I am walking again, and my true love, almost burned from my consciousness, is taking me in her arms. I lose track of how long we are kissing, but, when we stop, we are somehow home.

Our bodies fit together as well as they ever did, and I begin to realize that everything had happened to me in just a few weeks.

But now I am back forever.

As we go to sleep in our bed that night, sweaty and ecstatically spent from hours of reunion, she spoons up behind me, nuzzles my hair, and I feel her kiss and lick my ear one more time.

Drifting off, I hear her whisper, “And you will never climax for anybody else ever again.”